Walk In
by Fardarrig
Summary: Ed can't fap at the dorm because of reasons and Roy walks in on him jerking off. / RoyEd


Roy Mustang sighed, rubbing tired eyes as he wandered the halls of Central headquarters. It was late. Far too late, in his opinion, to be stuck behind a desk doing paperwork. Especially on a Friday night. But as it was, he had been sick the prior week, and work had piled up. It was in his best interest to stay a couple hours after work and finish what he was doing, even if it was quite possibly the dullest thing he could do on a Friday evening.

Hawkeye and the rest of the team had gone home a couple hours before, a quick glance at his watch affirmed. Nearing midnight. He was probably one of the only people still in the building, aside from the security guards and such.

'_Maybe_', he thought irritably, a slight frown appearing. _'I wouldn't be stuck here if someone hadn't decided to blow up a train.'_ Ed really was obscenely destructive; there had been no need at all for him to destroy it, he probably just wanted to get back at the Colonel for the excessive amount of short jokes the last couple visits. And if that were his goal, he succeeded; the vast majority of the pages he was reading had something to do with the Fullmetal Alchemist, and generally they weren't exceedingly positive.

But he supposed the job _had_ been done, and far quicker than anyone else could have or would have completed it. Days instead of weeks. Ed always came through in the end, though his methods were a bit questionable. The train thing, though, Roy was certain had been done solely out of spite.

Offering another sigh, he pushed open the door to the men's bathroom, freezing in the doorway at a soft murmur from the farthest stall. Who the Hell was still here? Perhaps a janitor? Mustang certainly wasn't going to ask, and the initial surprise of someone else being present was fading, so he started to let the door go.

And then he heard a quiet moan.

In a very familiar voice.

Ed?

- - / - -

Ed had a slight issue. Issue being, he was a seventeen-year-old boy. Which perhaps didn't sound like a major problem, until it was all put into perspective.

His brother was always conscious. There was no sleeping, there wasn't any breaks from being with him. Not that Ed was complaining! He adored his brother. Alphonse was the only thing that kept him sane. But there were just some...private things that Al couldn't understand, in his current state. And Ed certainly wasn't going to mention them! Not even that, Al had this terrible tendency, whenever he thought of an idea or theory, or found something interesting in a book, of just barging into the bathroom. The lock in their bathroom had been broken since before they got the dorm, so Ed couldn't really keep him out effectively, whatever he happened to be doing. Sure, he could lock it with alchemy, but he wasn't certain how to explain his desire for privacy from his sibling without revealing more than he cared.

Sort of luckily, he'd relatively recently hit puberty, perhaps a year before. But that was a year of inopportune boners and confusing urges and general irritation with his body as a whole.

For one thing, he hadn't grown a fucking inch. Wasn't puberty supposed to make you fucking taller? This was bullshit if he'd ever seen it. For another, he would just get hard randomly. In his limited knowledge on the male body, he'd always assumed that one needed to be aroused to get a boner; this was evidently not the case. And his third and final dilemma was -

He could only get off to the Flame Alchemist.

It had been vague at first; the first couple times he touched himself, he hadn't really thought about much, let alone the Colonel. But then shit started to change; he started noticing things about the older man, like where his trousers got tight and where they hid details, and those thoughts would slip into his mind when...well. And then the dreams started. Pale hands and a hot mouth, a wicked smirk curving sinful lips and _shit_. It was horrifying. And he certainly couldn't explain his flustered mornings to Al, could he? He couldn't explain them to _anyone_. And waking up aching for touch meant he had to practically run to an icy shower, an attempt to escape the urges that only worked sometimes.

So, to return to the original point, he didn't masterbate at their dorm if he could help it. Not only could Al walk in on him, or hear something he wasn't supposed to, but he'd be too uncomfortable to get it done as quickly as he'd like. And the longer it took, the more likely he'd get caught in an embarrassing situation. So he did it away, making some sort of excuse like he needed to go for a walk or whatever. Clear his mind.

But he couldn't do it when people were around, either. So generally, if he could, he did it late at night. And while he wasn't sure that regularly 'releasing stress' was why he'd stopped popping a tent randomly - it could easily be that his body had calmed down a bit over time - he wasn't willing to risk it. It was better to wander into headquarters at midnight and spend fifteen minutes in the bathroom once or twice a week than to embarrass himself in front of the Team or his brother.

Which explained his current situation, a hand wrapped around his dick, biting back moans, in the first floor bathroom of Central headquarters, automail hand pressed to his mouth to try to muffle any noises that might escape. He really, really hated doing this; it would likely be far more convenient to just attempt explaining things to his brother, but he really didn't feel like dealing with that on top of all the other shit going on. Anyway, Al had bigger concerns than his sibling's misadventures in puberty.

Unaware of his audience, he brushed a calloused palm over the length of his manhood, and despite his attempts at smothering noise, a quiet gasp of pleasure escaped him. His mind flitted to different places, different scenarios - anywhere but here. Pinned to the massive oak desk in the office, bent over a table in the library, arching against a pale body in the showers. Deliberate touches and an experienced tongue would send him over the edge, and -

"Ro-_oy_," the name was hissed between clenched teeth before he thought to stop it, body tensing as he came.

Given the location and general situation at hand - Al would notice if he took too long - Ed couldn't allow himself to enjoy his orgasm fully, sparing only a few seconds for release. Then he was forcing weak limbs to respond, offering a scornful snort at the mess.

He was so pathetic.

Dismissively, he wadded up cheap toilet paper, impatiently wiping himself off, eager to be done and gone. This was fucking ridiculous, that he did this. He should be ashamed, lurking in public restrooms in the dead of night, jerking off to someone nearly old enough to be his damn father. What the Hell was wrong with him?

He carefully readjusted himself, fixing his trousers and flushing the evidence. Clearly his hands still needed washing, and his cheeks would likely retain their flush for a time longer, but at least he was semi-presentable now.

Opening the stall door, the blonde glanced over at the door and froze, golden eyes locking with ebony.

Oh. Shit.

The color drained from Ed's face, and it took all his self control not to bolt. It was a long moment before either moved, and it wasn't the Elric who broke the heavy silence. "You're here late, Fullmetal." the Colonel's voice was casual as he stepped to the sink, but a quick glance affirmed he was fighting a smirk. That motherfucker. Just because he was too old to remember puberty...

"I could say the same for you," Ed responded stiffly, reluctantly joining him at the sink, just about itching to run. Fucking... He eyed the older man suspiciously, eyes narrowing. He knew. Ed was sure of it. "Considering you don't even work during the day."

Roy offered an agreement in the form of a grunt, allowing cold water to gather in his cupped hands. "A lot of complaints about a train." He didn't clarify, but he certainly didn't need to, and despite a nearly debilitating humiliation, Ed had to fight not to grin. Pfft.

Of course, the smile twitching at the pale-haired youth's lips vanished when the older man brought the icy water to his face. Roy grimaced, clearly displeased, perhaps at the temperature, perhaps at the wetness itself, but Ed hardly even noticed, eyes wide, focused on droplets running down over pale skin, wetting the white collar of his undershirt. His cheeks hadn't really lost their previous pink tinge, but now they flared crimson, and Ed forced himself to look back at his own hands. Concentrate on scrubbing his idiocy off. Okay.

He was pretty sure the Colonel was watching him, and he was even more sure that the smirk the older man had been hiding was now blatant, but he refused to look over to affirm it. Fuck him. Ed refused to give him the satisfaction of looking. As it was, the dark-haired man was no doubt gloating about the blush, but he couldn't do shit about that, so he'd just try to ignore his presence.

The teenager was pretty sure he'd been washing his hands way longer than necessary by the time Roy finally turned away, and he let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding.

He was certain he had, at the least, put off a conversation about this shit for the time being, so the blonde stiffened visibly when the older man stopped in the doorway. "Oh, right." He sounded too amused for it to be anything good, and Ed tensed further.

"What?"

"I had no idea we were on a first name basis, Edward."

It took a moment for it to sink in, what he was talking about. Oh. Oh my God._ Oh my God_. He heard him cu - and call his na -

"**_Mustang_**!"


End file.
